


Mutant

by WrecklessImagine



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Action, Emily Prentiss x Reader, F/M, Fanfiction, Gen, Love, Manipulation, Mutant, Romance, Smut, criminal minds - Freeform, imagine, powers, spencer reid x reader - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-18
Updated: 2016-11-21
Packaged: 2018-08-23 05:33:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 17,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8315797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WrecklessImagine/pseuds/WrecklessImagine
Summary: In a world where mutants are not only few, but revered, there exists a law that states that every law enforcement team in the upper echelon community is required to have one on their payroll.  Enter the reader: isolated, pointed, and the only mutant ever born to two non-mutant parents.  How will the BAU cope with getting this shut-out, stand-off-ish “creature” to open up to the team?  How will they get the reader to trust them?  But more importantly…how will the team react when they realize that the reader isn’t the only mutant at their disposal?





	1. You're Hired?

As a large gust of wind swirls papers in every single direction, SSA Aaron Hotchner sighs as he tosses yet another file into the trash bin.

But it was then that he realized he only had one last file sitting on his desk.

“Knock knock,” J.J. coos, her knuckles lightly rapping against his thick wooden door as he flips open the last mutant application sitting on his desk.

“No luck with the speedster?” J.J. remarks as she leans up against the door-frame.

But all Hotch continued to do was scan the papers with his eyes.

“J.J., can you send the last applicant in?” he murmurs.

“There’s no one out here,” she says as she furrows her brow, “you sure you called everyone?”

“I’m almost positive…” Hotch trails off as he grasps his cell phone in between his hands.

But just as he went to dial your number, you suddenly appeared behind J.J.

“Agent Hotchner,” you lull lowly.

Watching J.J. jump as she puts her hand over her heart, she rakes her eyes quickly up and down your form as she takes in your surprisingly normal state.

“Y/N?” Hotch asks as he stands to his feet and buttons his coat.

But your eyes slowly drift to his desk, your file wide open against the dark, bare desktop of his office.

“Come in. Sit,” Hotch beckons as he holds out his arm to the chair.

Slowly stepping in as you step in front of his desk, you gingerly sit into the chair as you keep your eyes locked on him.

“It says here you can…fly?” he asks as he hears his office door shut.

But all you did was blink at him.

“And…manipulate the elements?”

“Is that a question?” you murmur as you lightly quirk an eyebrow.

“Should it be?” Hotch asks in a stern voice as he tosses his hardened gaze up to you.

But it didn’t seem to phase you, and Hotch found that oddly refreshing.

“You can also…create telepathic links?” Hotch says as he furrows his brow.

“Funny. It also says in there that I graduated top of my class, have a Doctorate in Psychology, 5 years of experience in the local DC police force, and have top honors in all of my physical and tactical examinations.”

You watch as Hotch slowly raises his gaze to you, his eyes locking hard as your deadpan face continues to analyze him.

“But I suppose none of that is important, given that I’m the last mutant application you have to interview.”

Hotch was backed into a corner.

And he didn’t like being backed into corners.

Closing your file as he tosses it to the side, he folds his hands on top of his desk before sighing lightly to himself.

“You’re incredibly qualified for this job,” he begins.

“…but you can’t risk the safety of your team to someone you fear is reckless,” you finish.

If Hotch wasn’t so tired of the interviews, he would’ve been taken aback.

“Are you currently reading my mind?” he asks.

“You would know if I was,” you lull.

“How so?” he questions.

“It tingles,” you state matter-of-factly.

As a fervent knock comes at the door, you whip your head around as the door swings open, revealing an older man with a nicely trimmed goatee standing at the doorway.

“Got a case, Hotch. Three different victims in 10 hours.”

Nodding as he stands from his seat, Aaron holds out his hand as you rise to your feet and turn your body towards the older gentleman at the door.

“Rossi. This is our newest recruit. Y/N Y/L/N,” Hotch introduces.

It didn’t shock you that he hired you. He was backed into a corner and desperate.

“David Rossi,” he smirks as he holds out his hand for you to shake, “pleasure to meet you.”

But you shook his hand in silence before quickly skirting past him as David shoots Hotch a questioning look.

“Not one for talking?” he asks.

“We need her for this team to be in regulation. If anything, it buys me more time to find a more suitable team member for us.”

“You don’t think she’s suitable?” Rossi asks as they both watch you round your way into the meeting room.

“I think she’s intentionally closed off, and on a team like this we need to be able to trust each other at the drop of a hat,” Hotch states.

“Then lets drop this hat and see what happens,” Rossi says.


	2. Flower

“Everyone, this is Y/N Y/L/N. She is our newest recruit, so make sure she feels welcome,” Hotch announces.

As everyone shakes your hand, lightly smiling your way as they study every part of you, you turn to your right to continue shaking hands as your eyes fall heavily onto hers.

“Emily Prentiss,” she says, nodding her head in punctuation as you take her hand and shake it.

Your eyes lock onto hers, never swaying as you hold her hand for far too long.

You studied her…your eyes raking up and down her form as your hands lightly pulsated in the air, connected with an overwhelming feeling of electricity as your brows furrow lightly.

There was a lot of confusion churning in your gut as she finally makes a move to drop your hand.

“And this,” she turns to introduce, “is Dr. Spencer Reid.”

Holding up your hand to shake his, he eyes it carefully before slowly looking back up at you.

“I don’t bite,” you lull.

“Oh no no. It’s, uh…not that I’ll think you’ll hurt me. It’s just…did you know there are more germs spread through a handshake then there are through a kiss?”

“On the cheek, I take it,” you lull.

It was the most you had talked to any one person since Hotch had begun introductions.

And it didn’t go unnoticed.

“Yes. Uh…on the cheek,” Spencer nods before pulling his lips into a taut line.

Was he trying to smile, or…?

“Alright, everyone. Garcia’s gonna run us through the details. Everyone take a seat,” Hotch commands.

“Alright,” Garcia begins, “three bodies, all found within this area of the Appalachian Trail in the mountains of North Carolina.”

As you watch a map pop up with a shaded circular area superimposed on top of it, you drop your gaze to the file in front of you as you flip it open and take a look at the three mauled bodies in front of you.

“Looks like an animal got to ‘em,” Morgan grimaces.

“The only thing connecting them in their gender: male. I’ve done some preliminary searches and besides the obvious differences in physical features, none of them frequent the same areas or even live in the same cities.”

“Not true,” you lull.

And as everyone turns their attention towards you, you slowly pan your gaze to to Penelope as you say, “they’re mutants.”

“How do you know that?” Emily asks.

“A mutant knows when it’s in contact with another one,” you state as you pan your eyes over to her.

“Even in a picture?” she asks.

“Yep,” you pop.

“So they’re male and mutant. That means their in the database somewhere, and we can figure out what they do…or at least did,” Garcia breathes as she begins whirling away on her laptop.

“Alright. Garcia you keep on that, everyone else? Wheels up in 10. This unsub has a quick time-frame and we need to get out there quickly,” Hotch says.

Breaking your gaze with Emily as you scoot your chair back, you gather up the file in front of you just as the doctor appears at your side.

Staring at him as he shifts awkwardly on his feet, you patiently wait for him to say something before an idea crosses your mind.

“What’s your favorite flower?” you ask.

“Huh?” he breathes, like you had startled him out of his train of thought.

“Flower. Favorite. Go,” you say pointedly.

“Uh…well, I-…I guess. Well…”

“Water lilies,” Emily interrupts.

She steps up beside Spencer as you both turn your attention to her.

“Water lilies are a good one, Reid,” she adds then, clearing her throat lightly as she shifts underneath your darkening gaze.

“Alright. A water lily, then,” he says, smiling uncomfortably as he turns his gaze back to you.

Smoothing your (long/short) Y/C/H off of your right shoulder, you look over to your left as you expose the crook of your neck to him. Suddenly, as if by magic, a pulsating motion begins beneath your skin as a flower suddenly begins to shoot its stem from the cells of your neck, the flower blooming slowly against your skin as Emily and Spencer stand in absolute awe.

“Take it,” you beckon to him.

And as Spencer’s trembling hand reaches out to pluck the beautiful purple flower from the crook of your neck, he stares at it incredulously as you right yourself and step in between them towards the door.

“See you on the plane,” you lull.


	3. Plane

The plane ride was relatively quiet. Everyone was studying their case file while you were looking outside of the plane, watching as the clouds swooshed around the wings of the plane as your heart beckoned to soar out there beside it instead of being hunkered down within it.

But a loud plop in the seat in front of you ripped you from your peaceful thoughts of soaring pleasantly through the clouds as you sigh heavily and close your eyes.

“I know you wanna be left alone, so I’ll make this quick,” Morgan begins.

Your silence urged him to continue.

“I don’t want my team getting hurt. And I don’t want them placed in harm’s way...especially if it’s the type of harm that outmatches their ability to escape.”

You knew what he was getting at.

“So if you’re holding back anything about this case that you think we should know, you need to tell us,” Morgan urges.

“I’m not gonna hurt your team,” you murmur.

“I’m not talkin’ ‘bout you. I’m talkin’ about this case,” he says as he flips your file open and jams his finger into the middle of the papers, “I’m talking about what you saw that we weren’t able to see.”

“It’s all just theories at this point,” you breathe as you lean your forehead up against the tiny window.

How good the wind would feel against your face...

“That’s what we do, Y/L/N. Theories based on fact,” he states.

“And I have theories based on nothing,” you lull.

“Then lets bounce some ideas off of each other,” Morgan offers.

“I won’t bounce anything off of anyone that comes off as hostile as you do,” you bite.

It was then that you turned your rather harsh gaze his way as you watched him shift a bit in his seat.

They were terrified of you.

They all were.

Even Emily.

Which perplexed you the most.

“Then find someone,” Morgan urges before getting up out of his seat and making his way towards the back of the plane.

And while you wanted to continue living in your peaceful, comforting world, you also knew that he was right.

Someone else needed to be working your theories with you.

If anything, to keep the rest of the team safe.

“Prentiss,” you call out as Emily stops her conversation mid-way with J.J.

“Come here for a second,” you lull loudly.

Looking tentatively at J.J. before getting out of her seat, you hear her footsteps falling behind you before she appears, slowly slipping into the seat in front of you as she clears her throat lightly.

“What’s up, Y/L/N?” she asks.

“It has been...brought to my attention...that my theories, though not based in fact just yet, should be shared with someone else on the team.”

“Sounds like sound advice. Want me to go get Hotch?” she asks.

“Figured I’d share it with someone who could help me keep all of them safe,” you say as you nod behind you at the rest of the team, “you know...if my theories turn out to be right.”

“What makes you think I can help with that?” she asks.

You sigh lightly as you hold her gaze with heated intent.

“I won’t tell them,” you breathe into her head as you watch Emily’s eyes widen profusely.

“Calm down. Just...calm down. They don’t know, and they don’t suspect.”

As the two of you stare at each other, knowing the team is heavily eavesdropping on the conversation, you lean back into your seat as you begin your explanation.

“These three men are mutants. I know just by looking at the photographs. A mutant spotting another mutant is like a mother knowing the gender of her child before the big reveal at her ultrasound. It’s an intense, overwhelming sensation, and to call them anything else feels innately...wrong.”

You watch as Emily settles a little more comfortably into her seat.

“You promise?” she breathes back into your mind.

And you lightly nodded your head before continuing out loud.

“But these aren’t animal wounds,” you state as you turn your file for her to look down at.

“Animal wounds are almost always centered around massive muscle groups: thighs, the back, sometimes the forearms. The meat of their kill. These markings are in all of the opposite locations: the stomach, love handles, the cheeks. Places where close to no quick nourishment could come.”

“Soooo...what are you saying?” Emily begins, “You think another mutant is doing this?” she asks.

“Not only do I think another mutant is doing think, I think I know exactly what mutant is doing this,” you state.

“And when were you going to give us this information?” Hotch asks as he appears behind you, gazing over your shoulder as your eyes hold Emily’s.

“When we got to the station after landing and the police Captain told you that there’s someone already in custody willing to talk to us,” you state.

“You mean...the mutant that you think is doing this...is currently on his way to the police station?”

“Willingly?” Spencer pipes up as he sits in a seat next to Emily.

“No,” you state matter-of-factly.

And as everyone falls silent, their eyes boring into your form as your eyes release Emily and find Spencer, you quirk your eyebrow lightly in the air as you breathe...

“ _Her_ way.”


	4. Claire

None of you bothered to check into the hotel first, opting to take your travel bags straight to the police station.

You found it more of them trying to call your bluff than them wanting to get started to soon on the case.

As Aaron and the Captain find each other and begin talking, everyone else piles into the room as they look on into the interrogation room, the wild woodswoman handcuffed to the table.

“Doesn't look like she went quietly,” Morgan murmurs to Rossi as they take in the leaves in her hair and the scratch across her cheek.

But you just chuckled to yourself as your phone started to ring on your hip.

“Y/N speaking,” you say lightly, your positive tone of voice startling everyone in the room.

“Hello, my luscious new agent! I finally got into the mutant database, which is housed behind more firewalls and protocol than our own Pentagon, might I add, and I figured out the powers that our former mutants possessed.”

“Hit me,” you breathe as you pull out a sharpie from your pocket and roll up your long sleeves.

The mountains were brisk in the beginning of November.

“Alright. David Morris had some serious strength. Kyle Johnston had something called “chameleon abilities”, and Tyrone Davis was a jumper.”

“Of building or through to other parts of the world?” you ask for specification.

And it was the first time Garcia had ever fallen silent on the other end of the phone line.

“Garcia, the distinction is important,” you implore.

Listening to her tap away, you hear her take in a quick breath as she says, “of buildings.”

“Great. Thanks,” you say before clicking off the phone call.

“So cool!” Garcia squeals as you hang up the phone call.

Stuffing it back into your pocket, you hear the room door open as Hotch walks in and stands beside you.

“I think it’s gonna be better if you interrogate her,” Hotch murmurs as he crosses his arms.

Staring out of the room as you roll your sleeve back down, you hear a voice pop up behind you as you stop in your tracks and turn around.

“Maybe I should go in there with her,” Prentiss pipes up.

“Not until we know what’s going on. It’s too dangerous,” Hotch implores.

“But Y/L/N can keep me safe...right?” she asks as she looks over at you.

“What are you doing?” you breathe into her mind.

But you watched her shake it off and turn her eyes back to Aaron.

“You’re never gonna be able to trust her until you see that she’s on our side,” Prentiss emphasizes.

“And you trust her?” Hotch asks, now stepping in between your eyesight for Emily and hers for yours.

“Hotch. We’ve always been the kind of team to trust until we have concrete proof that we can’t. If anything, her being a mutant on this team makes her the most trustworthy one out of all of us because she possesses the most ability to protect us,” Emily reasons.

“And she can turn on us on a dime,” Hotch murmurs lowly.

“So can any of us on each other,” Emily implores.

Pieces were beginning to fall into place, and your confusion when it comes to Prentiss was slowly beginning to make sense.

“I’m going in there with her,” Emily states.

“Prent-” Hotch starts.

“And while we’re in there,” she interrupts him as she stands beside you, “you might wanna ask yourself if you really are as unbiased as you say you are.”

And as Emily turns her gaze to yours, your head cocking off to the side lightly as the two of you step outside of the door-frame, you begin to talk towards the entrance of the interrogation room as you put your hand on the doorknob.

“You sure?” you lull lowly as you flicker your dark gaze over to her, “Because this could...become revealing.”

Emily knew what you meant.

And as she took a deep breath, calming her mind while her gut churned with nervous energy, she nods her head as you swing open the door.

“Hello, Claire,” you lull with a smile.


	5. Lawyer, please.

“Angel!” she exclaims as she leaps to her feet, breaking the cuffs as if they were nonexistent and throws her arms around your neck, “My god...it’s been how many years!?”

“Seven,” you smile as you pull back.

“This is my partner, Agent Emily Prentiss,” you introduce as Emily holds out her hand.

“Don’t say anything about it,” you breathe into Claire’s mind.

“Ah...” she breathes in understanding, “Agent...very nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Emily smiles.

You could tell she was happy to be in common company, and you were thankful for that confidence.

She was going to need it in this interrogation.

“You know the drill,” you lull as you lean back into your chair and Emily leans forward onto her forearms, “state your name, place of residence, and abilities.”

“Claire Brahms; Banner Elk, North Carolina; taking other’s abilities,” Claire states.

“Wait...her ability...is the ability...to take other’s abilities?” Morgan questions.

“Would appear so,” Rossi breathes as he puffs his cheeks out with the moving air.

Spencer’s eyes were locked on in fascination as he stands tall beside Hotch.

“Can you tell us how you acquire those powers?” you ask.

It was then that Claire’s happy face slightly faltered.

“Claire...?” Emily questions.

“I have to bite into them,” Claire deadpans, “more specifically, I have to drink a certain amount of their blood.”

“She’s a mutant vampire...” Morgan huffs as he throws his arms in the air.

“Where are your favorite places to bite people?” Emily asks.

“Angel, do I need a lawyer?” Claire asks as she turns her attention to you.

“Why is she calling her Angel?” Spencer muses to himself.

“I believe I can answer that question,” J.J. finally pipes up as she turns her phone around to the team.

“You guys! You guys you guys you guys...guess what?” Garcia squeals on the video feed.

“What’s up, baby girl?” Morgan asks.

“I thought that Y/N looked familiar, so I did some digging around in the mutant database once I finally got in. Now, her file is under complete lock and key. Encrypted, parts of it redacted, it’s own firewalls...everything.”

“Why do I feel a ‘but’ coming on?” J.J. smirks as she rolls her eyes playfully.

“But! I opened her file long enough to take a screenshot before it triggered an alarm.”

“Triggered an alarm?” Hotch questions.

“Don’t worry, boss. Got it all figured out,” Garcia breathes as everyone’s phone dings.

“Y/N Y/L/N case name was ‘Angel’,” Garcia states.

“Case name?” Spencer questions.

“Back about three decades ago, there was a mutant that registered into the system who was born to two non-mutant parents. It was said that her parents were offered a great deal of money to turn their child over to the government for testing, to try and figure out how a mutant child can be born to people who have non-mutant DNA.”

“I take it that’s not the actual story?” Spencer asks.

“Not if you call her parents being found dead four days later on the side of the road fishy instead of merely circumstantial.”

“Leave it to the government,” Rossi murmurs.

“But that’s not all, Hotch,” Garcia rambles, “she’s not just the only mutant born to a non-mutant family. She’s also categorically the strongest. Apparently, the mutant community literally knows her as Guardian Angel.”

“Thanks, Garcia,” Hotch says.

“Anytime!” she chirps before disconnecting the phone call.

Spencer was the one reading his boss’s thoughts as if they were scrolling right across his forehead.

“You think she’s emotionally compromised,” Spencer states.

“Isn’t she?” Hotch asks.

“Honestly?” Spencer begins, “I think you’re more compromised than she is.”

And with that, Spencer turned his gaze back to the interrogation at hand.

“Not if you’re innocent,” you say, now leaning forward and matching stances with Emily, “which is why, before I have you look at some things, I need you to be honest with me and tell me where you were last night. Between the hours of 11 PM and 3 AM, to be exact.”

And the recognition that washed over Claire’s face made you sick to your stomach.

“Before you say what I think you’re going to say,” you ask as you reach out for Claire’s hand, wrapping your fingers around hers as you lock onto her eyes, “just answer one question.”

“Is there anyway to transfer the powers you obtain to someone?” you breathe into both Emily and Claire’s minds.

Emily whipped her head over to look at you as your hand stayed connected with Claire’s.

It was then that tears rose in Claire’s eyes as she turns her hand, palm up, and wraps her fingers around yours.

“All they’ve been needing is the blood,” Claire breathes back.

“I would like a lawyer, please,” Claire says out loud.

And as you let go of her hand, sighing as you lean back into your chair, Hotch comes busting through the door as he beckons harshly for the both of you to come with him.


	6. Money

“Lawyers are usually something we try to avoid,” Hotch says pointedly as he whips around on his feet, “However, asking for one is usually a good indication of guiltyness on some level.”

“Yes,” you state.

“I’ll have her charged and arrested within the hour,” Hotch says as he turns to walk off.

“No,” you state again.

As Hotch turns around, Emily once again steps up to the plate to defend you.

“I get it that you don’t trust her. But you trust me, and I trust her. You don’t know the whole story of what went on in there,” Emily says.

You side-glance her, warning her with your eyes that she’s toeing a very thin line between staying in the dark and being forced into the light.

“Then would someone like to fill me in on exactly what I just saw?” Hotch demands.

“First off,” you begin, “I get it. You don’t trust mutants, and I can work with that. What I won’t tolerate is you laying blame where blame isn’t necessary. And while I wholeheartedly believe that Claire is the one doing this to these men, I can guarantee you that she isn’t doing it maliciously, and is probably being coerced.”

“Coerced?” Hotch asks.

You found that he conveniently side-stepped the accusation you threw his way, and that’s when you realized it.

Why Emily played in the dark.

And it made you buzz with anger.

“There are rumors in the mutant community. Rumors of an organization attempting to synthesize abilities to be able to sell on the black market to ordinary people.”

“What is it supposed to do? Give them powers?” Spencer asks as he steps up behind Hotch.

“Temporarily. Rumor has it that the serum, once injected, can last anywhere from two hours to two days, depending on the concentration of the dose.”

“Which, I assume, affects the price,” Spencer says.

“I would assume,” you say.

“So then why not just kidnap the mutants and keep them hostage?” Spencer postulates, “Why kill them just for one serving of blood?”

“This is where we get into the genetics of mutants that I’m not familiar with,” you admit.

“Well, there are many theories,” Emily picks up as the rest of the team gathers around and listens, “the widely accepted one being that mutants can only create the chemical in their system that gives them their powers for so long at such an exponential level before it gives out altogether.”

“Like mutant diabetes?” you ask.

“You could think of it that way, yeah,” Emily states.

“So...what? These dead men we found are mutants that could no longer harness their powers?” J.J. asks incredulously.

“So how does Claire fit into all of this?” Morgan asks, “Is she the one supplying them with mutants to take? Or is she the one keeping them hostage and supplying them with the blood?”

“Neither...” you trail off as you bring your hands to your face and rub the sleep from your eyes, “I think they have her on retainer.”

“What do you mean?” Hotch asks.

You noticed the edge in his voice was gone, which startled you into looking up at him.

“I mean, I think she’s the one that figures out whether or not their tapped out,” you say as you quirk your eyebrow questioningly up at Hotch.

“That would make sense. If she bit them and she didn’t acquire their power, it would mean they didn’t have anymore to be taken,” Spencer says.

“So...what do we do now?” Morgan asks.

And as Rossi appears with a phone up to his ear, he thanks Garcia before closing it shut and dropping it into the pocket of his jeans.

“We do what we always do,” he muses with a smirk on his face, “we follow the money.”


	7. Captain Planet

Claire’s lawyer arrived, no surprise that the lawyer himself was a mutant, and the search team sent to Claire’s home finally made it back four hours later to the police station.

And the amount of evidence bags they were carrying was astounding.

“Emily?” you ask as she walks up to you and stands close to your body.

“Y/N, there’s no doubt that those bodies, and many more, were in her home. Even if she is just an accomplice to something bigger…even if she is being bribed…her deal is still gonna come with jail time.”

The thought made you sick to your stomach.

“Any luck with the money trail?” Spencer asks, standing beside the two of you as he rips you from your thoughts.

“Yeah. Leads back to shell corporation after shell corporation. Never the same one, and never a face to the account on the other end.”

“I take it the account numbers are always different, too?” Spencer hopes.

“You got it,” you breathe as you look up at him.

“Y/L/N,” Hotch calls from across the room.

Sighing as you make your way around the desks, Hotch pulls you off to the side as he begins to talk lowly.

“We have to find a way to get Claire to talk. We have all of these loose ends, but no way to tie them into anything.”

“One thing we need to do is start working on her plea deal,” you state.

“Plea deal?” Hotch questions.

“Jesus…didn't you work in law, Hotch?” you breathe.

“I just don’t understand-”

“She’s a mutant!” you raise your voice, “Not a species from another planet! At her base, she is human. We all are!”

Your tone of voice caused him to take a step back as he watched your eyes change from Y/C/E to gray.

“If she were a regular human woman in this situation, what would you give her to entice her to talk?” you breathe as Hotch’s hair flows backwards from the projectile of air blowing from between your lips.

Everyone was watching you intently now as your hair started to bounce between silver and Y/C/H.

But all Hotch could do was watch in awe…with just a twinge of fear.

“Get the woman a deal to make her talk. Like all other criminals with information you want access to,” you say with your eyes closed, trying to keep your emotions at bay as your world swirls around you.

“And stop being so damn prejudiced,” you murmur as you turn and walk away, ignoring the eyes following you as your form rounds the dark corner and backs its way into a corner.

“Breathe, Angel,” you whisper to yourself as you finally feel your insides calming down.

“Breathe…” you say as you exhale the last cool, spiraling bout of air.

“So…when your file says ‘elements,’ you’re talkin’ more Captain Planet, aren’t you?”

Rossi’s sentiment makes you chuckle as you shake your head and close your eyes.

“Sure as hell isn’t the periodic table,” you mumble as you lean your head against the wall.

“Hopefully Reid won’t be too disappointed,” Rossi muses.

The silence that descended on the conversation was almost…soothing.

“We all need sleep,” you breathe.

“Yep. I actually came to find you to let you know Hotch is releasing everyone to go check into the hotel.”

“What about the deal?” you ask as you open your eyes.

“Nothing will take place until tomorrow. Until then? Claire’s going into a holding cell for the night,” Rossi states.

“No. No no no. You can’t put her there. Besides it never holding her, if we are talking about some super secret powerful organization, who’s to say they won’t get to her and kill her?” you ask.

“That sounds a bit unbelievable,” Rossi admits.

“This entire situation is unbelievable,” you strain.

You could tell by the way Rossi was contorting his face that he was seriously thinking about your sentiment.

“Come on,” he says as he holds out his arm for you, “I think I may have a solution to our problems.”


	8. Example

“Protective detail?” Hotch asks.

“Well, yeah. Send Claire home, and have Angel accompany her for the night until the plea deal can be discussed tomorrow,” Rossi says.

“My name’s Y/N,” you murmur.

“Well we aren’t sending just her, and I’m not sending one of my agents alone with her to do this,” Hotch states.

“Why do you hate us so much?” you ask as you unfold your arms and clench your fists at your side, “Why do you automatically assume I’m working up some kind of devious plan to-...to undermine your authority or kill off your team!?”

“Because that’s the only interaction I’ve ever had with a mutant!” Hotch says sternly.

“No it isn’t,” Emily pipes up as she walks up behind you.

“Emily,” you say as you plead with your eyes.

“No no no. It’s alright, Y/N,” she states.

“Prentiss?” Hotch asks as he turns his gaze toward her.

And right before everyone’s eyes, she takes out a knife and holds out her arm.

Watching intently as the blade comes closer to her skin, Rossi grasps her wrist as he eyes her carefully.

“It’s alright, Rossi,” she breathes.

And it was in that moment that you realized...that Rossi knew as well.

As everyone gathers around to watch, with Hotch’s eyes wide and prying, the blade slices Emily’s skin as blood begins to creep to the surface.

Only, once she was done, the blood sucked back into her skin and the wound closed right back up.

And everyone, including yourself, was rooted to the floor.

“Oh my god,” J.J. murmurs.

“Holy shit,” Morgan whispers.

“This whole time, Emily?” Spencer croaks.

“I’m sorry, I just-...I was going to tell you guys, but then things with Foyet began to happen, and this was before it was mandatory to list it on employment applications...”

Your eyes traveled to Emily’s face as her eyes looked pleadingly up at Hotch.

“Aaron, I’m sorry,” she breathes.

“Who’s Foyet?” you ask lightly.

And as Hotch rakes his hands down his face, sighing heavily and with great strain, he presses the heels of his hands into his eyes as he turns his back on the team.

“Y/L/N, take Prentiss with your on your protective detail.”

“And me,” Spencer pipes up.

“Whatever,” Hotch waves, rounding the corner with his shoulders lightly slumped.

You had never seen a man more tired and more defeated than the man who rounded that corner and disappeared from the eyes of his team.

“You still haven’t answered my question,” you muse as you turn your eyes over towards Emily.

But her attention was trained on the dark path ahead of her as Spencer’s voice comes wafting from the backseat.

“Maybe later,” he states.

As the car bobs and weaves, jostling everyone in their seats, the bright lights of the Jeep finally give way to a smooth path that breaks into a cabin.

“This is it,” Claire says lightly.

As Emily pulls the car up to the house, she throws her door open as you reach over and grab her wrist.

“Are you alright?” you ask.

“I’m more frustrated,” she admits.

“At what?” Spencer asks as he helps Claire out of the car.

“At the fact that me revealing myself didn’t change the way he acted towards Y/L/N, but the way he acted towards me.”

“You can’t really fault him for that,” Spencer says as he holds onto Claire’s arm, “I mean, look at the experience he had with Foyet.”

“I take it this ‘Foyet’ was a mutant?” you lull as you slam your car door behind you.

“Yeah...” Emily trails off.

“What did he do that was so bad?” you breathe as you wave your hands in the air.

“He killed Hotch’s wife,” Spencer says as he eyes you cautiously.

You felt like swallowing your own tongue in that very instance.

“Well still,” you begin, “just because I’ve had shit luck with men doesn’t mean I hate all men,” you emphasize.

“What, uh...what kind of luck?” Spencer asks as you all walk up the steps towards the front door.

“Reid...” Emily chuckles as she shakes her head.

“Not quite the same, Y/L/N,” Emily says as she watches Claire unlock her front door.

“Fine. A better example: just because ‘regular’ men killed my parents doesn’t mean I hate and are apprehensive around all regular men,” you state as Spencer and Emily both whip their heads towards you.

Neither of them thought you would’ve known about your parents’ deaths.

“Telepathic, remember? I knew from the moment they were planning it,” you lull flatly.

“Don’t see me holding Hotch hostage for their sins, do you?” you murmur before putting your hand on Claire’s back and ushering her into her home.

And as Spencer and Emily look at each other while Claire begins flipping on lights in her home, Emily heaves a deep sigh as she says, “Slightly better example.”


	9. Vulnerability Twist

“What if they come after me?” Claire asks as her hands tremble around a hot cup of tea.

“Then we will be here to stop them,” Emily soothes as she runs her hand comfortingly up and down Claire’s arm, “You said it yourself the men that come are just regular men.”

“But that doesn’t make sense,” Spencer pipes up as the women turn their heads towards him. “I mean, you’re obviously much more...everything...than them. Why not just...”

“Kill them?” Claire asks as you shoot a look of pure warning towards your colleague.

“Well, I-I-I mean...what I guess I mean is...wh-”

“He’s trying to figure out what keeps you from retaliating when they come to you. Do they have something they’re leveraging against you?” Emily asks.

You were watching closely, your legs spread and your back sunk into a chair as you breathe silently...rhythmically...slowly allowing the pieces to fall together as you probe as much of her mind as you can without setting off alarms on her end.

And it gave you most of what you needed.

“You tried to stop them yourself, didn’t you?” you deadpan, your form hidden in the shadows as Claire looks up towards the sound of your voice.

“Yes,” she whispers lightly.

“What did they originally sell this to you as? What cause were you supposed to be helping?”

“Y/N, I think that’s-”

“Prentiss, three men are dead. She may be a mutant, but we treat her _no_ differently than if she were a regular person dumping bodies that a secret organization no longer needed for their experiments.”

You expected her newfound sense of home to cloud her judgement. It was why you were so glad Spencer had fought his way into coming.

“She’s right,” Spencer says to no one in particular as your gaze shifts and settles on to him.

That was when you really began to study him.

His jaw-line and his frazzled hair.

His lips and his twinkling eyes.

His childish ability to find awe in mutant’s abilities while still being the rock of a man this desolate woman needed in her time of greatest fear.

He was an enigma, and you found your mind reaching out to his way before you could stop it.

“Thank you,” you breathe into his mind, causing him to jump as he whips his gaze towards you.

“Makes you feel violated for a second, doesn’t it?” Emily smirks as Claire chuckles.

A light bout of laughter was exactly what this room needed before Claire cleared her throat.

“They were claiming the be able to get rid of powers,” Claire speaks up.

Everyone quickly turned their attention back to her as she kept on talking.

“There are mutants that walk this earth that have wished all their lives that they never had their powers. Mutants that prayed day in and day out that they would wake up and whatever God or-...or evolutionary force of nature would take from them what it so helplessly gave.”

“So they told you they were making something to get rid of them,” Emily states.

“Yeah. But they said that it had to be person-specific. That they needed DNA and marrow samples from the mutant in order to reverse-engineer a compound for a serum that that would negate the effects of the chemical in their body that they found helped produce their powers in the first place,” Claire says.

“So...these men we found. They were men that wanted their powers gone?” you question as you sit forward, your sharp face outlined with the shadows as your eyes burrow into Claire.

“Yeah...” Claire breathes as tears spring to her eyes again.

“So how did they spin your job to you?” you ask.

“Angel, I-”

“Claire,” you ask sternly as your eyes continue to stay locked on her, “you have got to fill in the blanks. They’re working on a deal for you right now. You’re getting that. But now you have to _help us_.”

And as Claire begins to cry, bringing her hands to her face as she lightly weeps into her palms, Emily begins to rub her back as the words you know are about to hit your ears make you close your eyes and swallow back your own.

“They promised me a free engineered serum for myself if I didn’t ask questions,” she sobs.

They used Claire’s own disgust for herself against her.

And you felt your overwhelming fury course through your body as your hair starts to turn gray once more.


	10. Telepathic Link

When you come to, finally settling yourself down, Spencer is rubbing your back soothingly as he talks to you lightly in your ear.

“Hey. It’s alright. You’ve more than proven yourself on this team. Without you, we would’ve never made this kind of progress. Especially in the first night. Just take a deep breath...”

And his hand against your back felt so wonderful.

“What is that, by the way?” Emily calls from across the room as you groan and roll your eyes.

“Want me to take this?” Claire asks.

“Whatever,” you breathe as the air that knocks itself from your lungs flutters the papers of the magazines sitting by the fireplace.

“You alright?” Spencer asks as you turn your gaze upwards to look at him.

“I will be when we catch these asshats,” you bite.

You smiled at the lightly chuckle Spencer let loose as Claire’s voice begins to come closer.

“Here,” she beckons as she hands you a steaming cup of apple cider.

“Bless you,” you moan as the warmth cascades up your arms.

“Angel here can control the elements,” she says as she wiggles her eyebrows.

“Like the periodic table!?” Spencer breathes in shock.

You chuckled as you thought back to Rossi’s conversation with you earlier.

“No no no. Like, water. Fire. Things like that,” Claire says.

“Water, Wind, Light, Fire, Earth and Electricity,” you lull before taking a sip of your drink.

“So that’s how you can grow the flowers?” Emily asks.

“Oh, it’s so much cooler than that,” Claire smiles brightly.

“Must be if it impresses another mutant,” Spencer muses as he hikes his eyebrows high up on his head.

“So why did you turn gray just now?” Emily asks.

“Yeah, and back at the station. You did it there, too,” Spencer adds.

“Each element has a color. Depending on the element I’m wielding, my physical features take on those characteristics.”

“Like...red hair with fire?” Spencer asks.

“Mhm,” you hum as you take another sip.

“Or...blue with water?” Emily questions.

“Yep,” you pop after swallowing the hot liquid.

“So gray must be...”

“Wind,” Claire interjects.

“Are they somehow hooked to your emotions? Because you’ve been very upset when it appeared,” Spencer observes.

“Not necessarily. They aren’t triggered by emotion, but by them raising their heads, certain emotions are naturally raised, if that makes sense.”

“Emotions aren’t the cause, but the byproduct, go it,” Spencer states.

You could only smirk at him as you watched his mind try to make sense of the information, standing on just the tip of the reservoir of amazement that was Spencer Reid’s mind as you watch it whirl and try to make sense of everything.

Both Emily and Claire knew what you were doing.

“Like what you see?” Emily breathes into you.

Her voice shocked you from what you were doing.

But before Spencer could question you on why you jumped so suddenly, all of you hear the cracking of twigs and leaves in the distance.

“Shit,” Emily spits as she raises to her feet.

“That’s them. Oh god, it’s them. Th-th-...they’re here!” Claire harshly whispers.

“Here, come with me,” Spencer beckons as he reaches for Claire’s hand.

But that’s when you had an idea.

“Claire,” you say as you whirl your head around towards her, “you said you wanted to stop them, right?” you ask.

“Well, yeah,” Claire shakes.

“What if I told you I think I have a way to get you out of jail time,” you smirk as the tire tracks get closer to the house.

So close, in fact, you could see their beams of light on the trees out front.

“Oooooh, no. Absolutely not, Y/L/N,” Emily muses.

“It’s not your choice,” you counter, your gaze shushing Emily as she clenches her jaw in frustration.

“What’s-...what’s your idea?” Claire asks.

“Telepathic link,” you whisper.


	11. Chapter 11

“You let them _**what**_!?” Hotch roars, no longer concealing his disgust for your presence on his team as you hold steadfast and stand your ground.

“I let them take her with a telepathic link in place,” you state.

“So she’s with men who want to kill her for talking, and you think a telepathic link is gonna save her!?” Hotch yells.

“You needed a way to figure out where these guys are. Well, now we have a way for a witness to talk directly to us! To literally draw us a map!”

“Yeah, inside the head of a woman I don’t **trust**!” Hotch counters.

“Then deal with your insecurities and lets get these bastards!” you yell back.

“You have no authority on this team!” Hotch bellows, his chest puffing out as you take a step towards him.

“And one could argue that neither do you!” you roar right back.

“Sit down and shut up,” Hotch bites sternly, a flare behind his eyes that no one had seen since the night he beat Foyet to death with his bare hands.

“NO!” you roar, your hair turning gray as your eyes fade to hazel.

As the papers around you in the office begin swirling around, your clothes fading away as gray and brown swirls of air dance closely around your body, you raise your hands out to the side as concentrated swirls of wind begin to encompass your fists while your hair dances wildly around your neck.

While the team was startled, and Emily was nervous, Spencer was absolutely captivated.

“Incredible,” he breathes.

“You have had your leads because of me this entire **case**!” you yell as you levitate off of the ground and inch closer towards your boss, “You have had setback after setback, whereas I have provided nothing but answers to your blank **spaces**! I am no more responsible for the death of your wife than you are responsible for the death **_OF MY FAMILY_**!”

And suddenly, as if in the blink of an eye, the papers of the office flutter to the floor as Hotch’s wide eyes follow your towering figure back to the ground as wind-outlined wings no one realized you had suddenly turn from moving air into flickering flames as your gray hair is overcome by red and orange streaks. Your angry, hazel eyes turn to saddened, yellow ones as your wind-draped figure slowly emerges into a flickering fire dress, dull and lifeless as molten tears begin to drip down your cheeks.

Winds of fury, and the fires of incredible sadness.

You feel your fingertips burning as everyone stands and watches you transform, their jaws unhinged in shock and awe as Hotch swallows thickly and takes a step back from you.

“I am sorry for your loss,” you choke out as you close your eyes, breathing deep as everything about you begins to transform before everyone’s eyes, bringing you back to the Y/N that they all know and recognize...while Spencer was off in the corner, wishing that it wouldn’t end.

Begging to see more.

And it didn’t go unnoticed by you.

But a voice in your head ripped you from the bowels of your existence.

“Angel,” Claire breaths, “Angel. Start writing. I know where we are.”

And your hands were quick to find a pen and piece of paper as you began to jot down the words rolling through your head.


	12. Raid

As the team races in silent cars to the abandoned laboratory as Garcia begins to put pieces in place that she had seemingly thought were random, she begins pulling up name after name of people involved, easily linking them to the project now that she had a different starting point.

And all because of your link with Claire.

“We’re coming, Claire,” you breathe into her mind as the SUV’s cut off their lights and sirens, “just stay strong.”

But you became worried when she no longer was responding to your messages.

“ETA?” you ask nervously.

“3 minutes out,” Hotch says.

And, surprisingly, there was no edge to his voice.

As the cars pull up to the lab, everyone quietly begins to jump out as you and Emily duck around one way while the rest of the team goes another.

They knew the two of you could take care of yourselves, if need be.

“What’s the plan?” Emily mouths.

“The plan,” you breathe into her mind as you smirk, “is to find Claire. She hasn’t responded for the past 7 minutes.”

You would sympathize with the worry on her face as the two of you approach a side door.

As Emily lets go of her gun she reaches out slowly before a vine gets in her way, wrapping around the doorknob and slowly pulling.

She looks up to a pair of green eyes, your hair flowing green and gold down your shoulders as your regularly-clad clothes of black on black on black give way to a beautiful flowing green gown.

“Earth?” she mouths.

And all you did was nod.

As the two of you slowly make your way down the pitch-black hallway, you breathe into her mind a phrase that Emily is almost too keen to answer.

“Want some light?”

You could feel her childlike anxiousness as your body switches gears, your hair crackling in streaks of yellow and white fury as your dress turns pale yellow and your eyes go white.

It was then that you held up your hands, levitating off of the ground as your electric wings spread wide, illuminating the entire corridor as Emily looks up at you in wonder.

“Wow,” she breathes.

“Let’s find Claire,” you whisper, trying to suppress the proud smile growing behind your cheeks.

Keeping watch as Emily ducks into and clears every room on the corridor, you silence your electric field as your pride takes a large dip, returning you back to your normal form as you drop back quietly to your feet and your emotions slowly ebb back to rest.

It was the men’s voices that had stopped your partner in her tracks.

“Boss gave the word yet?” the man asks.

“Nah. Says he’s got somethin’ else for her before we kill ‘er,” the other man says.

You swallow hard as you close your eyes and find your way to Hotch’s mind.

“Aaron,” you breathe into him as Emily takes your hand and leads you down an opposing hallway, “you can’t talk back, but we have two men on the south-side of the building talking about Claire. Apparently the person running the show has one last job for her before they kill her. Keep an eye out.”

“Message to someone?” Emily whispers lightly.

“Hotch,” you respond.

“Oh, he’s gonna love that,” Emily smirks.

Hotch didn’t pop off the first shot until the entire lab was surrounded. People on the roof, people in the basement, and people around all sides of the building.

The problem with using regular human tactics, however, is that they never account for other solutions.

Enter in: the reason why this particular law that lead to your hiring 52 hours ago was implemented.

Too many regular men in this line of work were dying because of circumstances they couldn’t foresee.

So you started to run through your mind all of the abilities you knew Claire to have acquired over the years.

Because you had a feeling they were going to try and use her against the team.

As bullets begin to fly and rooms begin to be infiltrated, you and Emily split up in your attempt to keep everyone safe and still find Claire.

Shot after shot rings out, with bodies of turned scientists and treasonous criminals dropping left and right…people wanting to die for a cause rather than rat out a boss who would torture their lives rather than take them.

You knew that the BAU was geared towards finding that person.

But you were geared on finding Claire.

As the vines from your wrists wrapped around the necks of unmarked madmen with machine guns, your arms ripping them behind you as you tossed them like rag-dolls, you feel the overwhelming sense of beauty that comes with wielding Earth as well as the overwhelming sense of sickness in your stomach at the stark contrast between what’s raging within your stomach and what’s raging in front of your eyes.

But when you round the corner into the center of the lab, your green hair billowing and flower petals gracing the train of your flowing dress, your eyes widen as shock overwhelms your system, the gunshots fading into the background.

It was Claire.

With a gun.

Pointed at you.

“Claire…” you breathe as Earth gives way to Fire, your hair streaking out and your eyes paling to their bright yellow state.

“Angel…” she muses lowly, her finger steadily on the trigger as she cocks her head lightly.

“What are you doing?” you breathe as your fiery wings curl into your sides and your dress slowly drips from green to red.

You needed to slowly heat up this room in order to destroy they serums encased all along the back wall.

And you could mask it with your sadness.

“I’m surprised you didn’t see it sooner, honestly,” Claire states. “I mean, when they hauled me into the police station, besides internally laughing at their false sense of strength, I really and truly thought I had been caught.”

Unfortunately, the lack of telepathic link between you and Hotch didn’t allow you the information that Garcia had stumbled upon while the raid was only beginning. When you changed into your electric form, your phone probably fell from your pocket and onto the ground in the middle of the hallway.

You didn’t know that Garcia had finally pinned down the constant bouncing of the shell corporations.

You didn’t know that Garcia had finally locked down a final bank account number that actually existed for longer than 8 minutes.

You didn’t know that Claire’s background wasn’t really in education like you had always known...but actually in laboratory research.

You didn’t know any of this, because the person standing in front of you wasn’t actually Claire.

Watching in shock as fire begins to burn at your feet, your molten tears sizzling down your cheek as Claire’s form melts and morphs into a random man you don’t recognize, you weep for the loss of a friend you didn’t know was dead as the temperature of the room steadily begins to rise.

You just needed to get it to 60 degrees and hold it.

“Had you probed my mind juuuuuust a bit further,” the man says as he cocks his gun, “it would’ve been obvious.”

“Even mutants have to have boundaries,” you lull flatly.

“I wonder how your team will feel knowing that, if you had just broken your own rules, we could have avoided so many deaths,” the man slithers.

“What's the point?” you breathe as you flop your arms at your sides, “What is your endgame?”

“Look,” he commands as he holds his arm out, transforming into Spencer right before your eyes.

“I’m living proof that this serum works,” Spencer breathes.

At least, this man posing as Spencer.

And even though you knew it wasn’t Spencer, you just couldn’t keep your eyes off of him.

“Oh…you like me, don’t you,” faux-Spencer says as he lowers the gun to his side.

Your hard swallow answered his question.

“Would you like to know what it’s like to touch him,” faux-Spencer lulls, his eyes darkening in a way that made your mouth go dry as he slowly begins to approach you.

You had to stay rooted because the room had just hit the temperature you needed to boil the serums.

But faux-Spencer was towering over you, and his breath was hot on your face.

“To kiss him…” faux-Spencer lulls as his hand comes up and cups your cheek.

You couldn’t settle the involuntary want to nuzzle into his palm.

“A horse to its water,” he whispers as he begins to dip his lips to yours.

But something inside of you snapped, like a rubber band to your skin, and you rear your hands back and plant them firmly on his skin, searing your prints forever onto his chest as you throw him backwards as the serums all along the back wall begins to bubble.

Mission accomplished.

“Fuck you,” you spit as your fingers crook upwards and balls of fire begin to roar in your palms.

“As you wish,” the man says, quickly morphing back into his old form as he brings the gun back up to your level.

And with the harsh crack of the bullet leaving the barrel, your eyes widen as the fire in your palms slowly begins to die.


	13. Truth Revealed

As the crack of the gun silences your roaring emotions for a split second, the fire dies in the palms of your hands just as you see a body shoot in front of you.

“Nooooooooo!” you shriek before you realize who it is.

Watching as Emily peels herself off of the floor, blood dripping from the wound in her chest, she pops her neck as she girds her loins, bending her knees as a light squishing sound is heard emanating out from the room.

The mystery man was so entranced with what she was doing...so in awe of her ability...that he didn’t even notice that his life’s work was boiling right behind him.

“Peekaboo,” Emily grunts, bearing down pressure in her abdomen as that same bullet shoots out from wound now closing up in her body, hurtling at top speed towards the man who had fired the shot in the first place.

It ripped through his shoulder, causing the gun to fall from his hand as he howls in pain.

“Y/N,” Emily whips around as she looks you up and down, “you alright?”

But all you could do was drop your eyes to the massive stain of blood on her shirt.

“Nothing there, see?” she breathes as she raises her shirt for you to see, “Nothing there.”

“My serum works! I have made our evolutionary advancement available to everyone!” the man roars as Hotch handcuffs him and begins to read him his rights.

“I am a genius. The world will know of my greatness!” the man grunts.

“Not really,” you muse, smirking as you grasp his arm and whip him around.

And as his eyes settle onto the boiling glass vials busting in his cabinet, his shrieks echo down the hallway as both Hotch and Morgan work to restrain him long enough to get him into the back of a SWAT van out front.

Settling back into your original form as steam begins wafting from your skin, you breathe out a long sigh through your nose as bellowing clouds of water vapor come pouring from your nostrils.

“Good job, Smaug,” Spencer smirks.

“I think I like Angel better,” you fire back as you watch him approach you.

“I didn’t honestly think this case would be so quick,” Spencer muses as the two of you watch SWAT member after SWAT member walk out innocent mutants who were being stored for their blood.

“They usually not this quick?” you ask as you look up at him.

“Never,” he chuckles as he looks down at you.

His eyes were so calming...like the lazy sloshing of waves on a cool fall morning at the edge of the beach.

“Spencer, I-”

You felt a strong pull to tell him what had happened in there. The transformation. The touch.

The want you felt for his kiss...

As he watches you intently, his body turned completely towards you now, you sigh as you dip your head to the floor as another question comes barreling through your mind.

“I have to find Claire,” you whisper.

“Then let me come with you,” he says lowly as he places his hands on your shoulders, “Emily’s got all of this back here. The children can do without us.”

His sentiment made you chuckle as you shake your head and look back up at him.

“Where do we start?” he asks as he begins to remove his bulletproof vest.

“Her cabin,” you lull as you bring your eyes down to his chest.

“We start at her cabin.”


	14. It's A Date

You didn’t know what you were going to find at her cabin, but you knew it wasn’t her body. You knew her corpse was locked up in that lab somewhere, waiting to be found by Emily or Morgan...

...but you couldn’t be there to see it, and Spencer knew that.

“You know it’s not your fault, right?” he asks as you run your hand along the back of her couch, “You couldn’t have possibly known.”

“Had I broken my self-imposed boundaries I would have,” you mumble.

“But those boundaries make up who you are. We all have them,” Spencer says as he watches you mindlessly walk across her room.

“She had no family, you know. She was adopted, then cast out when they found her mutant abilities emerging.”

Spencer’s heart began to ache for a woman he realizes he had never really met.

“She worked and struggled for everything she had, and she was damn proud of it,” you choke.

Spencer was watching you intently now.

“You knew her much better than you let us on, didn’t you?” Spencer asks as he approaches you slowly from behind.

“I guess,” you breathe, trying desperately to keep your tears at bay as the pour down your cheeks without your permission.

“How did you know her?” Spencer asks lightly, his body heat radiating onto your back as you will yourself not to back into him for comfort.

“She was my childhood best friend,” you tremble as a light whimper escapes from between your lips.

And as Spencer whirls you around, throwing all boundaries of strangers’ germs out the window, he wraps his arms around you tight as you cry into the chest of one of the most beautiful men your eyes had ever seen.

A man that you had only known a mere two and a half days.

The cases continued to pour in, and your team continued to solve them with mind-blowing speed. Hotch’s strong walls slowly began to turn to jello the more he found that he could trust you, and after a mere three months of being on the team, he was inviting you to dinners over at his house so that his son, Jack, could be “exposed” to mutants and their abilities early.

He was essentially relinquishing his parental skills to you, leaving someone with mutant knowledge to teach his son about such things.

And you made sure to never take his time, or graciousness, for granted.

But the holidays came and went, and as Valentine’s Day began to creep up, everyone on the team started talking about their plans.

“Hotch and I are gonna get together. I’m gonna cook him and Jack dinner,” Rossi muses.

“I got a baby girl expectin’ some serious plans: romantic dinner, candle-lights, a nice fire...maybe some nooky nooky,” he laughs as he rubs his hands together.

“Yeah, just make sure to get that nooky nooky groomed before you stick it anywhere,” Emily muses as you laugh and shake your head.

“Oh, trust me. I got it all under control,” Derek muses.

“Gross,” J.J. rolls her eyes.

“What are your plans, Y/N?” Spencer asks.

As you stop writing and look over at your colleague, you pause for a brief second before answering.

“Got a date with Mack,” you muse.

“Ooooooooo, who’s Mack?” J.J. muses as she begins walking over to your desk.

“Mack? Someone’s got a Mack? Is Mack handsome? Is he muscular? Is he luscious?” Garcia begins.

But you were too busy studying the way Spencer’s face fell when you had thrown out the name.

“Don’t get too excited,” Emily smiles, “Sin to Win is my weekend in Atlantic City like Mack is to her Magic Wand.”

And as everyone begins to roar with laughter, Garcis slaps you playfully on your shoulder as you giggle and turn your attention back to your paperwork.

“So you-...don’t have a boyfriend?” Spencer asks.

“Not unless you’re askin’, hot stuff,” you muse.

The sentiment tumbled from your lips before you could even catch it, and your eyes widened broadly as the entire room stopped to look over at you.

“What was that, Angel?” Derek muses playfully.

“Nothing,” you mumble as you begin scrawling on your papers yet again.

Spencer’s eyes were wide with wonder and happiness as he finally gets the courage to ask you what he has been wanting to for weeks.

“Well, if you don’t have plans,” Spencer begins as you dart your eyes over to him quickly, “then maybe you should come over Saturday.”

“Ooooooh, Pretty Boy’s got some confidence!” Morgan says as he claps in entertainment.

“Well, she did just call him hot stuff,” J.J. muses as she begins to smirk in your direction.

“I’ll cook the food?” Spencer asks.

“I’ll bring the wine,” you muse lowly as your eyes continue to dart over your paperwork.

“And Mack! Take Mack, too!” Garcia shouts before barreling out of the glass doors of the BAU bullpen.

She missed the pen you threw at her head by only a fraction of a second.


	15. Date

Smoothing out your dress as you tousle your hair one last time, you let out a nervous sigh as you clench your hand lightly around the bag housing two nice bottles of wine and a decadent dessert from the bakery down the street.

“Here goes nothing,” you murmur to yourself.

Knocking lightly on Spencer’s door, you hear shuffling behind the door just before something metallic clanks onto the ground.

“Shit,” you hear Spencer whisper to himself as you smirk in amusement.

As the door rips open in front of you, a tall and disheveled Spencer smiling broadly at you, your eyes rake down his body as they stop at his chest.

As your eyes read the inscription on his apron, chuckling with amusement, you raise up on your tip-toes and plant a light kiss on his cheek as Spencer blushes furiously.

“If you insist,” you murmur lightly into his ear before pushing past him.

“If I insist?” he questions.

And that’s when you point to your own chest, circling your finger in the air as his eyes glance down at the apron he didn’t realize he was still wearing.

Kiss the cook, because it’s healthier than a handshake.

“Geez,” he murmurs as he rips it over his head.

“Gag gift?” you ask as you set the bag of goodies down on his counter.

“Rossi got it for me for my birthday last year,” he muses as he hangs it up on a coat rack by the door. “He uh, thought it would be funny.”

“Knowing David, he probably thought it would get you lucky.”

You threw him a playful wink just to set him a bit on edge.

“Whatever you are cooking,” you start as you pull out the two bottles of nice wine that Rossi had instructed you to purchase, “it smells wonderful.”

“Thanks! It was, um, a recipe Rossi recommended,” he admits.

“No wonder he knew exactly what wine to tell me to pair with it,” you smile lightly, holding up the bottles for Spencer to see as he pulls out two wine glasses and a corkscrew.

“He kept insisting I follow the directions exactly, and I still had to call and clarify a couple of things,” Spencer says as he sets the glasses down and takes the bottles from you.

“And here I thought you were a genius,” you joust, the low playfulness in your voice raising the hairs on the back of Spencer’s neck.

“Oh! I also took the liberty of stopping in a bakery I passed on the way here to get this,” you muse as you pull out two pieces of tiramisu in the shapes of hearts.

“You walked here?” Spencer grunts as the cork finally pops.

“It’s not that far. Plus I enjoy the fresh air,” you add.

“It’s supposed to rain later on tonight...” Spencer trails off.

“You mean you aren’t ripping my clothes off on Valentine’s Day weekend and bedding me until I’m begging for mercy?” you muse lightly.

Spencer dropped the corkscrew onto the counter as his hands faltered their movements.

“I’m just playing,” you snicker as you turn around and set the desserts off to the side, “I have an entire side of me that’s water. A little rain never hurts.”

The nervous chuckle that came from between Spencer’s lips made you suppress a giggle as he hands you a glass of wine with his trembling hand.

“Thank you,” you muse, trying to settle him down a bit.

“For-...for what?” he asks as he brings the wine to his lips.

“This,” you ask as you gesture around. “I’ve never done this before.”

“You’ve never been on a date?” Spencer inquires.

“Is this a date?” you muse, looking up at him from underneath your lashes as you bring the glass to your lips.

You enjoyed flustering the genius as he darts his eyes around.

“Well...I-I-I uh, I mean...if-...if you-”

“It’s alright,” you muse as you reach out and touch his forearm in comfort, “I’m under the impression that it is.”

“Oh,” he says as a relief passes over him, “good.”

“What I meant was, I’ve never done Valentine’s Day before,” you clarify as you retract your hand and bring your glass to your lips again.

The two of you downed the first of your glasses before the timer for the oven went off.

“Well, I-...I haven’t really either,” he says as he turns around and bends down, opening the oven as he reaches in for the food he is making, “unless you count celebrating with your mom when you were a kid.”

“Do you love your mom?” you ask as Spencer turns around and strides over to the table he had set up for this evening.

“More than words,” he breathes as he sets the roast and vegetables down in the middle of the table.

“Then I would think it counts. Valentine’s isn’t just romantic, it’s also full of love. That part is important, I think.”

You take the liberty of pouring the both of you another glass of wine as you bring them over to the table.

“She would like you,” Spencer muses.

“Hm?” you hum as you take a sip before setting your glass down.

“My mom. She would like you,” Spencer reiterates.

“She a mutant?” you ask as you turn and look Spencer in his eyes.

His wonderful, dazzling eyes...

“No. But she finds them fascinating,” he says.

There was a slight twinge of sadness there, and you wanted so badly to ask him about it.

But you decided to leave it for another day.

“Is there anything else we need?” you muse lightly.

“Nope,” he says as he begins to look around the room, “just...hold on. I need to go find some matches.”

“Oh, Spencer,” you chuckle as you hold your fingers over the unlit candlestick, “looks like that memory needs a refresher course,” you tease.

And as you snap your fingers, a flame dancing along your thumb as you light both of the candles on the table, Spencer looks on in awe as the candlelight plays seductively off of your features, his eyes never wavering from you as he watches you bring your finger to your lips and lightly blow out the flame.

“There,” you state as your eyes find their way back up to his.

And you committed the look in his eyes to memory, hoping one day to be able to elicit it again.


	16. Another?

Valentine’s Day went very well. The dinner was delicious, the wine was potent, and the conversation flowed perfectly between you two, with the lulls in conversation not awkward, but comfortable.

The two of you talked about various topics. You regaled him with memories of your parents before everything happened, and he talked with you about his relationship with his mother. He confided in you about his father, and you questioned him about the look in his eyes when he mentioned his mother earlier. You touched on the topic of what you remembered with the experiments performed on you as a child, and then ended up talking about your growing relationship with the team members a little bit.

And you were a little disappointed when the evening came to an end, and it was time to leave.

The girls teased you about it, wanting the dirty details and the gossip on how the evening went.

But even when you told them it was just dinner and good conversation, for some reason they didn’t believe it.

Same thing with the guys on Spencer’s end, and he just couldn’t figure out why it was so hard for everyone to believe that it was just dinner and wine.

“It’s never just dinner and wine on Valentine’s,” Rossi coo’d lowly.

“Yeah. Didn’t you ask her to stay or somethin’?” Morgan questioned.

“Well, no. It wasn’t raining, and we weren’t too drunk from the wine, so when we were done and had cleaned up, we talked for a bit then she went home,” Spencer said.

Everyone was shocked when Hotch jumped into the conversation.

“Have you asked her out again?” he asked.

“Well...we came back to a case, so I haven’t really-”

“Did you tell her you had a nice time?” Morgan questions warily.

“I mean I couldn’t find my phone t-”

“Did you even kiss her on the cheek goodbye?” Rossi ask breathlessly.

“What is with you guys!?” he yelped as he pushed himself away from the guys.

But they had already stirred up a very self-conscious part of his mind.

Did you not have a good time? Had he been rude? Had you expected something more than just dinner?

Had you wanted to stay?

Your favorite part of the evening was actually what wasn’t talked about, and that was your mutant powers. Usually that’s all anyone ever wanted to talk about, usually with demonstrations included. But Spencer never once probed about them, nor did he express any lustful or selfish desire to see anything else that you could do.

It was refreshing, and your favorite part of the night.

It was the first time you had ever been around someone who truly wanted to be around just you.

You wanted to express that to him somehow...to get him to understand that that dinner was so much more to you than just a friendly date. It would, in your eyes, become the date that you held all of the rest of your dates up to.

But when you pulled Spencer aside to tell him, you saw a strange look in his eyes.

“Spencer?” you ask, quickly switching gears, “Are you alright?”

But he stayed silent as his eyes darted around the corner you had pulled him in to.

“Spencer, talk to me,” you coo lightly.

It was then that he brought his eyes level with yours, and you saw that same look of sadness in his eyes, twinged with a bit of panic.

“Don’t make me pull it out of you...” you threaten lowly.

“Were you expecting sex last weekend?” Spencer blurts out a bit too loud as you hear Rossi and Morgan groan to themselves around the corner.

Your face must have been priceless, because the both of you started laughing lowly, trying to stifle your belly laughter as you shake your head and dip your gaze.

“Don’t let those guys get in your heads. They do things like that to get sex,” you begin as you raise your eyes back up to Spencer’s, “but you do things like that just because you want to.”

“That’s not true!” Morgan protests as he steps from around the corner, “I treat my ladies well.”

“Says your shaved nooky nooky,” you muse as you roll your eyes.

“I happen to treat my women to dinner because they love my cooking,” Rossi asserts as he steps up beside Derek.

“And your cock,” you muse lowly as Spencer’s eyes widen.

“When did our little Angel develop such a mouth!?” Morgan feigns shock.

“Girls’ niiiiiiights!” Garcia and J.J. sing-song as you turn your wide and giggling smile back to Spencer.

“Reid,” you start, “I was not expecting sex, nor was I disappointed with the evening. I enjoyed every second with you, and I felt...like you actually wanted to be with me. Not my abilities.”

“Of course I would want to be with you,” he says as he furrows his brow in confusion, “it’s why I asked you to dinner.”

Your heart leapt in your chest as your broad smile fades into a thankful grin.

“And-” Spencer begins before he takes a deep breath for courage, “and...if you’re not busy this Saturday, maybe we could have dinner again.”

You could feel the entire team smirking behind you as a light flush rose to your cheeks.

“I’ll cook,” you muse as you turn your body and start down the hallway.

“And I’ll bring the wine,” Spencer says to himself.


	17. Round Two

Cooking the steak and shrimp on your counter-top griddle, you hear a tentative knock at the door as you put one of your spatulas down, extending your arm as a vine comes protruding from your wrist.

“Come on in!” you shout as the vine twirls around the doorknob, opening the door and letting Spencer in.

A light bout of shock rolled over his face before smiling at the vine that was now retracting into a kitchen he was just dumped into.

“Hey there,” he muses as he places the bag on the counter-top, “got another Rossi recommendation here.”

“Beautiful,” you smile as you take your spatulas and begin tossing the rice in the soy sauce and vegetables you just mingled in with it.

“You have a miniature hibachi restaurant in your apartment,” he states as he comes up behind you and watches you cook.

“And I’m almost done,” you smile as you begin filling his plate with the delicious steak, shrimp, rice, and vegetables.

“So, you said you lived in an apartment,” Spencer muses, “but this looks like something you own.”

“Does that make it any less of an apartment?” you ask as you fill your plate while Spencer opens cabinets looking for wine glasses.

“Well, the modern term usually denotes someone renting a particular space in a building,” Spencer muses as he finally finds the glasses.

“Here we go,” he grunts as he begins opening cabinets again, looking for a corkscrew.

“Oh, here. I have a trick,” you say as you sets the plates quickly on the table in your combined living area/dining room.

Taking off your shoe and you place the bottom of the bottle inside of the heel, you begin banging the bottom of your shoe against the wall as Spencer watches the cork slowly begin to protrude up from the glass neck.

Handing it back to him as you smile proudly from your accomplishment, he looks from the bottle back to you in confusion as a breathless giggle leaves your lips.

“You really should get on that internet discovery,” you muse as you slip your shoe back on your foot.

And as silent understanding wafts over his face, you listen to him pour the lovely maroon wine into glasses as you gather silverware and napkins for you both before venturing to the dinner table.

Conversation was easy, yet again. More modern topics were popular this time: things you enjoyed about the city, his favorite places to go when he wasn’t at work. He asked you if you celebrated the holidays and what you had done, and he told you of his trip to Vegas to be with his Mom over Christmas. You smiled as he talked about her, watching the pride of being her son wash over his face time and time again as he lost himself in memories of her while she was lucid.

But always...always that lightly painful expression at the end.

“You know...if you want to talk about it-”

“Oh, no. Everything’s fine. I’ve dealt with it for a long time,” he quips.

“...or...” you emphasize as you throw him a stern look for cutting you off, “just sit and be sad about it in silence, you can always call or come over.”

It was the last offering you had made that caused Spencer to stare at you for an unnerving amount of time.

“Thank you,” he says genuinely, light shock rolling over his features at just how grateful he was for the back-half of that offer. “Really.”

“If you come over, I won’t make you talk,” you urge as you stab a piece of your shrimp.

“That means a great deal to me, Y/N,” he muses lowly.

Your eyes flashed yellow for a split second as the hairs on your arm began to stand on end.

And it didn’t go unnoticed by Spencer.

“Y/N?” he asks as he puts his fork down.

It was then that you close your eyes as yellow and white sparks begin to fly off of the ends of your fork.

“Is everything alright?” he asks warily, half of him fearful and half of him curious as your hair begins to flicker between white and yellow, with waves of shock rolling over your flowing tendrils as your eyes stay yellow.

The way Spencer had said your name...

Most people refer to it as just a spark. A moment where, for a fraction of a second, they feel the strongest pulse of electricity blow through their body.

But for someone who could actually wield electricity, a “spark” of electricity through your conductive body was like setting a flicker of flame onto a log in a fireplace.

Spencer watched on in awe, your body visibly turning from the Y/N he knew to the one element you were able to control that he hadn’t seen much of.

Electricity.

He watched as you pushed your chair back from the table, your hair lighting up as it audibly crackled. He watched your eyes turn from the Y/C/E he adored to a beautiful pale yellow that he found breath-taking.

He took in the transformation of your dress: a casual black and white sundress that hugged your body into a flowing drapery of yellows and whites that swirled around your legs as your fingertips passed charged currents of energy as your eyes slowly crawl from your plate of food up to his eyes.

His wide, curious, awe-filled eyes.

“Excuse me,” you choke out, your sexual energy getting the better of you as you rush off to your bathroom, taking with you not just the tension in the room, but the physical light along with it, leaving Spencer sitting in a darkened room surrounded by floor to ceiling windows.

He knew they were tinted from the outside so that no one could see in, but it accented the stars in the nighttime sky, adding to the beauty that was already in the room.

Well, the beauty that had just left, at least.

Shutting yourself in your bathroom as you begin to take deep breaths, you finally get this new surge of uncontrolled energy under your charge as your body begins to calm down as your form slowly begins to change: your hair sets itself back, your dress begins to change into its original form, and your eyes settle back to their original color.

This was going to be a problem if you couldn’t learn to control it.

Remember the little tidbit on how the elements you wield are unusually tapped into very specific emotions?

Well...electricity was strongly linked with your sexual energy.

It’s why you didn’t use it very often, unless absolutely necessary. And usually, it was using that element that caused the emotion to rise to the surface.

Not the other way around.

You can remember only losing control of your powers like that once in your lifetime, and it was the fire from your wings that burned down the scientific facility you were being held in as a child when the sadness of your existence overcame you so greatly that your fire overtook your body completely.

Just like your electricity had just done.

“Y/N?” Spencer says lightly as he knocks on the door, “Are you alright?”

And while you felt a surge deep within your stomach as he said your name once more, you were able to concentrate and keep your power buried within you.

“Yes,” you say before clearing your throat, “yes. I’m uh...I’m good. Just...let me splash some water in my face.”

You realized just how stupid it sounded as it was leaving your lips.

“You could always just transform into water and slap yourself with your wing,” Spencer muses, trying to make a joke.

And the mental image that his joke had created caused you to begin giggling as you reached for the doorknob and was met face-to-face with the broad-smiling, ever-towering, calm and collected Spencer Reid.

“I’m sorry,” you offer as your giggles die down, “it’s been a...”

The sigh that heaves from your chest results in Spencer holding out your wine glass to you.

This man was incredible.

“It’s been what?” he asks lightly as you wrap your fingers around the stem and take the glass from him.

“It’s been a long time,” you begin, “since my energies have spurred my elements.”

“I noticed it doesn’t happen often,” Spencer says as you step out of the bathroom and shut the door behind you.

“It doesn’t happen ever,” you correct as you bring the glass to your lips.

“What energy happened?”

“What?” you choke as you bring the glass down hastily from your lips.

“The energy that was so strong,” he clarifies as you turn around quickly to him, “what was it?”

And as you stared at him, his features becoming sharper underneath the darkness of the apartment, you take in a shaking breath as you decide to tell the truth.

“Sexual,” you muse lowly as Spencer holds your gaze heavily.

“It was sexual energy,” you admit.


	18. Unexpected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut warning for this chapter.

Staring at his chest as you feel him slowly remove your wine glass from your hand, your eyes slowly pan up to him as his unblinking eyes take in the electric blue that is still flickering behind your Y/C/E eyes.

The lights in your apartment keep flickering, trying to find the energy to stay on as you consistently drain them for your own selfish purposes.

As the two of you hold each other’s gaze for what seems like an eternity, you finally watch Spencer quickly drain both glasses down a throat that you wished you could sink your teeth in before he drops both of the glasses onto your carpeted hallway and closes the gap between the two of you.

His hands are everywhere. The curve of your cheeks. The small of your neck. The dip in your back. His tongue lands heavily in your mouth as you take in a deep breath through your nose, soaking in his smell as your arms cling tightly around his neck. Your hair crackles and your skin surges and the sprawling electric wings wrap themselves wholly around Spencer’s body as he presses his warmth into yours.

Time was racing. It felt as if the clock was spinning itself on the wall as the two of you begin to sink to the floor. The fluff of the carpet was a stark contrast to the skin Spencer was biting on your neck as your hands work his shirt up and over his head.

He moaned with the electricity coursing through his body.

As your wing tips slowly flutter down his spine, his mouth finds your swollen breasts as he gropes and kisses them with a fury. His spit is trailing down your body and your clothes are pealing away, revealing every curve and dip to him as you arch your back into his warm, plump lips.

“You are breath-taking,” Spencer murmurs before shivering once again at the touch of your fingertips.

But his lips kept traveling lower, and his girth kept growing beneath his pants, and your limbs were trembling with want and need as Spencer wasted no time in settling right between your legs.

Your short, curly hairs were lit up with dancing blues and whites, bouncing and crackling as Spencer just stares in wonder.

“It doesn’t hurt,” you breathe, anticipating his every move as his eyes flicker up towards your flushed face.

And as he dipped his lips to your wet core, his tongue probing and swirling as he sinks farther and farther into your all-encompassing lips, the electricity tingling the tip of his tongue ricocheted all the way down to his toes.

And he matched you orgasm for orgasm all through the night.

Fluttering your eyes open as you take in the bright morning light streaming through your window, you raise your arm to stretch as Spencer’s hand falls from your side and down onto your breast.

The lazy movement caused you to turn over as you smile as his half-asleep gaze.

“Morning,” he croaks as you smile kindly at him.

“Morning,” you breathe.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

“Sore,” you chuckle lowly as a sloppy grin breaks out on Spencer’s face.

Something wasn’t quite right.

“Spencer?” you ask as you slowly lean up. “Are you alright?”

“Of...course...” Spencer murmurs.

At least, that’s what you thought he said.

But you watched the confusion waft over his face as he rolled over, and you saw how lazy one side of his face had become.

Oh, no.

Scrambling out of bed as you throw on the first clothes you can put your hands on, you rush around to Spencer’s side of the bed as you throw his good arm around your shoulders and stand him up.

“We gotta get clothes on you,” you breathe as Spencer tries to articulate his nonsensical syllables.

But you knew what had happened, and tears welled in your eyes as you scrambled to get his clothes back on him.

Your electricity had short-circuited his own electrical currents.

And he was having a stroke.


	19. Hospital

Stumbling through the emergency hospital doors, you see that Emily is already there, surely hearing the scramble that is your brain as you and her help Spencer onto a gurney.

The tears pouring down his face broke your heart.

“What happened?” Hotch asks as he approaches just long enough to see Spencer being wheeled away.

But everyone could see the shirt you were wearing, and they all had an idea of what had happened.

And the tears that stained the front of his work shirt on your body flowed freely as your tears slowly turned to molten lava in the middle of the ER.

As the team sits in the waiting room, their legs jiggling nervously and their bodies pacing endlessly, you sit over in a corner staring at the wall as Emily slowly comes over and sits herself down behind you.

“You couldn’t have known,” she tries to soothe.

“It’s basic anatomy, Emily,” you deadpan. “If you jolt a heart while it’s down, it restarts. You jolt it while it’s up, it shuts it down.”

“You didn’t shut Spencer down,” she tries again.

“No, I just fried half of his brain and inhibited an entire side of his body from moving,” you spit.

“Dr. Spencer Reid?” someone calls out.

Leaping to your feet as you rush over to the standing doctor, your eyes hook onto his as you breathe a sigh of relief, realizing that his doctor is, in fact, a mutant.

“Dr. Reid has suffered a massive electrical surge to over 60% of his body,” the doctor begins.

The team slowly eyes you as your eyes begin to slowly turn orange.

You had never felt so out of control in your lifetime.

“What-...how-...is he-?”

“His brain is fine,” the doctor begins, “he’s all there and nothing has been impeded on that front.”

“On that front?” Hotch questions as he steps up beside you.

“His body, however, is struggling. The right side of his face is lagging, almost like a stroke victim’s, and his left arm and left leg are almost unresponsive.”

The muffled sob that threatened to escape took you to you knees as Emily bends down next to you and begins to rub your back as your Y/C/H hair begins to slowly turn red.

“He’s going to need regular physical therapy to begin getting his mobility back, but he should, in a few months time, be able to return back to work on a limited basis,” the doctor finally finishes.

“A few months?” Rossi breathes.

But your sobs drowned out everyone behind you as your sadness boiled over the top.

You had to pull yourself together.

You had to get back to Spencer.

Sniffling as you rise back up onto your feet, you swallow your sorrows as your form slowly returns back to normal.

“When can I see him?” you ask as you wipe at your nose.

“I take it you’re Y/N?” the doctor yes.

“Yes, sir,” you breathe.

And as sorrow filled the doctor’s eyes, your worst nightmare was imagined as the horrible words poured from his tautly-pulled lips.

“He has requested not to see you at this time.”


	20. Torture and Surprise

The three weeks he spent in the hospital were a nightmare. He didn’t want to see you, and you couldn’t be in your apartment without thinking about him. You wanted to badly to take his hand...to hold him and tell him how sorry you were for not foreseeing the consequences of losing yourself to him. You wanted to coo in his ear lowly that you were going to help him every step of the way, and that he wasn’t going to lose you.

But you settled for sending him handwritten letters addressed to his room and having a regular flower service switch out the beautiful smells in his room every couple of days.

You called the hospital multiple times to check up on him, but you could only get the details from Garcia. He had left you off of his HIPPA form, and she was being sympathetic enough to fill you in on the bigger details.

“He smiled for the first time yesterday.”

“He’s already gaining a bit of movement back in his fingertips.”

“He squeezed my hand!”

You wanted to be there for all of those moments. All of those firsts that were so monumental.

But you settled for hearing about them from the team.

Finally, the day came when he was released. The entire team was there, a couple of people in his room while the rest surrounded a car outside to take him back to his apartment.

And you wanted to be there so desperately...

...but the team advised you that it would probably be too much for him.

“Just let him come around in his own time,” Rossi coo’d.

“He’ll be lonely in his apartment and call for you, I’m sure,” Morgan soothed.

“It’s like a victim seeing the person who hurt them. Just give him some more time,” Hotch says.

Thanks, Hotch.

But three days had gone by since he had arrived home from the hospital, and not a single word had been summoned out your way for you.

You felt lost. Lost in a sea of endless emotion that you hadn’t felt since you had lost your parents. You hadn’t allowed yourself to love anyone until Spencer came along, and while you didn’t think you could look him in his eyes and drop that word just yet, you knew that he was the first person you had ever actively cared about long enough to let their absence ruin you.

And that’s exactly what it was doing.

Hotch understood when you asked for some time off. No one on the team could imagine the grief you were experiencing, and even though you threw yourself into the cases they had gotten since Spencer’s admittance into the hospital, they knew it was because you didn’t want to think about home.

About the reality of the downside of your powers.

You sulked around in your bed, and you didn’t feel like eating. You tried Spencer’s cell phone so often that, eventually, every time you called it shot you to his voicemail.

And you left message after message, crying and pleading and begging with him to let you help.

But you never heard from him, and it shattered your world.

You walked around in a constant daze, with your greasy red hair piled high on your head and your molten lava tears leaving scarring trails down your cheeks. They carved their way into your skin and left permanent indentations as you threw on a hoodie kept your head down as you walked aimlessly around the city.

But little did you know that fate was about to step in and give you a second chance.

Sighing heavily as you stop in front of a random building, you sniffle in sadness as you heave a black puff of hair from between your lips.

And the shocked gasp of a voice you could never forget caused you to shoot your aching neck up as your sad, puffy, cracked orange eyes slowly pan up to a very familiar set of brown ones.

And you found yourself face-to-face with Spencer.


	21. Relief

“Spencer,” you breathe as your eyes widen.

He was upright. And on a cane.

You could tell the lack of sleep that he had been obtaining. His dark circles were darker than normal, almost overshadowing the beauty of his light brown eyes. His hair was disheveled and long, and his body was trembling to keep himself upright on a cane that was propping him up on his leg.

His leg that you had destroyed.

When your eyes finally cascade back up to his face, what you expect to find isn’t quite what you get.

What you expect to find is disgust, and possibly a bit of inconvenience.

But what you found was relief...with just a twinge of guilt.

Guilt?

Furrowing your brow as you study his eyes, you watch him take a step towards you as his right arm stretches out, encompassing your shoulders as he lays his chin on top of your head.

Spencer was hugging you.

Tightly.

“Oh, god,” you choke out as tears rise to your eyes.

Wrapping your arms around him as you hold him close, you feel a sense of calm wash over you...as if the past few weeks had not happened.

Then you realized...

“Why didn’t you want to see me?” you croak.

Feeling Spencer release you, your heart plummets to your toes as you curse yourself for every asking the question.

But you are quickly met with an answer that, yet again, by surprise.

“I knew you would feel guilty,” he says.

Oh, how you had missed that voice.

“Of course I would have,” you say as you look up at him, “I still do.”

“You couldn’t have known...” he trails off.

His eyes were pleading with you.

Why?

“It’s-...simple, uh...”

You were getting lost in his reactions. So starkly opposite of everything you had expected.

“I’m not mad at you,” he whispers.

“Why not?” you breathe as you shake your head lightly at him.

“Because you couldn’t of known,” he says lowly.

As he reaches out his hand, you feel his fingers encompass yours, your tiny hand sitting in the palm of his, almost as if to comfort you through the conflicted emotions you were feeling.

“You should be angry, Spencer,” you say as you furrow your brow in confusion. “You should be angry, and yelling, and cursing me for doing this to you.”

“But I’m not,” he says as he smiles lightly.

You felt a hot tear cascade down your cheek as your Y/C/H slowly begins to turn red and orange.

And that’s when Spencer saw them. Actually took notice of them.

The scars that your molten tears had eroded down your face.

“What have you done?” he whispers, almost to himself as his fingertips swipe against the light crevices on your face as your hot tears follow their familiar trail down to your chin.

“I have tried-” you choke out as your clothing begins to crackle with a low-roaring fire, “-so many times...”

But you couldn’t get it out.

How much you missed him.

How much you ached without him.

You had no right to feel any of it.

“I didn’t want to see you in the hospital,” he begins, “because I knew that you would beat yourself up. I knew that you would spew ‘I’m sorry’ more times than you could count, and I figured you had been through enough.”

You slowly lift your smoking face to Spencer as you connect your blazing orange eyes to his.

“I didn’t pick up your phone calls because I thought that talking to me would only serve to hurt you more than you had already hurt yourself. So, I figured that some time away from me to cope with a guilt you never needed to feel was the answer.”

Your eyes dance in between his as the molten tears carve deeper crevices into your cheeks.

“Does that hurt?” he whispers lightly as his eyes dart down to your cheeks.

“I thought you hated me,” you hiccup as your jaw begins to tremble. “I thought you hated me.”

“Oh, Y/N,” Spencer breathes as he shakes his head, “I could never hate you.”

As he cups your burning face with both of his hands, he limps forward one last step to close the gap between the two of you as he whispers, “I could never hate you.”

And as you feel his lips press heavily against yours, your fiery facade melting away into your old, regular form, you cloak your arms around his back as the scars in your cheeks fill themselves to the surface as your body heals itself from the damage that you have inflicted upon your own body.

And the two of you stood in the middle of the sidewalk as the world passed you by.


	22. Epilogue

“Did it work?”

Panting as your body drips in sweat, you lob your head over to Spencer as his dazed half-smile streaks lazily across his cheeks.

You loved his post-orgasmic haze.

“Oh yeah,” he breathes as his chest rises and falls with his pants, “definitely worked.”

Over the past five months, you had been there every step of the way: helping him through his physical therapy, staying behind with him and Garcia at HQ until he was back on the road, and even attending his post-therapy doctor’s appointments with him.

And absolutely no sex. Whatsoever.

But when he finally walked out of the bathroom one morning without his cane, you had rushed over to him and thrown your arms around his neck, planting your lips square onto his as his hands dipped down to the small of your back.

And you felt your hair begin to tingle.

The two of you had kept your distance...never even so much as holding hands. You would walk closely, side by side, and the two of you would go on dinner dates and morning coffee runs for the team, desperate to have time with each other.

But you couldn’t keep your element under control.

“Maybe there’s something out there to...help,” Spencer had suggested one day to Derek. “Maybe there’s a pill she could take...o-o-or...something...”

“Well, you could always just buy a rubber body suit,” Derek snickered as J.J. covered her mouth to stifle her laugh.

“Jesus, Morgan,” J.J. said as her eyes widened.

But Spencer was good at taking it all in stride.

Good about it, at least, until he surprised you at your apartment with dinner.

And you were wearing nothing but a shirt and panties with knee-high socks when he opened your door and barged in.

“Y/N, you really need to be more ca-”

Ever since then, he had done research. Research upon research upon research in an attempt to find some hope one day of being able to sink his teeth into the beautiful thighs you had flashed him that one spontaneous night.

And finally, he had found something of promise.

“Apparently, there is a doctor developing something to suppress powers, but it’s only a temporary state!” Spencer said with a smile on his face. “It says here that beginning trials-”

“You don’t want me to have my powers?” you had asked meekly.

And it was then that Spencer dropped his bag and brought you into his arms and kissed you passionately.

“I love your powers,” he murmured against your lips as you tried desperately to keep your electric side at bay, “but I miss being with you.”

It was astounding to you that, after everything you had put him through, that he would still want for you in that fashion.

“It says in the beginning trials,” he started up again as he reluctantly pulled away from you that one fateful evening, “that the pills used kick in, on average, 12 minutes after ingestion and last, on average, 89 minutes.”

“So...” you started as you reached out and began fingering the buttons on his cardigan, “...I could take it a few minutes before fun times.”

“Exactly,” Spencer giggles lightly as he smiles down at you

“Like...Viagra for mutants,” you smile.

And the two of you burst out laughing before Spencer placed a phone call to the head of the trial.

You smile in bed as you recount your journey with him: the petrifying feeling of falling in love with him, the beautiful dates, the first terrifying morning you woke up next to him..

But before your mind could run away from you, you feel a body press wholly on top of yours as the sensation rips you from your thoughts.

“By my calculations,” Spencer smirks, “we still have 52 minutes.”

You sigh lightly into the darkened room as Spencer’s lips lock onto your neck, and your legs instinctively part for him as his pulsating dick slips easily down to your entrance.

“I love you,” you breathe as a tear slips out from your eye and down the side of your face.

And as Spencer’s lips dip down to kiss the tear away, you feel him smile against your skin as he slowly slips right back into you, locking your bodies together like two puzzle pieces finally finding their rightful place in the picture.

“I love you, too,” he whispers as your hands cling to his back.


End file.
